


Decisions, Decisions

by Prankstyr



Category: Bastion
Genre: Feelings, Gen, I'm so sorry, Restoration, really really sad shit, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:41:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prankstyr/pseuds/Prankstyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kid picked Restoration. He hoped for a better past, a brand new timeline. He got something different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions, Decisions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tumblr user bastionbabble](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tumblr+user+bastionbabble).



The Kid spent too little time deciding, he realized as a green light started radiating outwards from the Bastion. Restoration. Restoration is such a beautiful word, such a beautiful idea. He liked the idea. He liked the thought of being able to see Nacie again, snag another drink with Percy, finally get the chance to tell them all how much he loved them.  
  
The Kid was stupid before, he decided. He took that stoic label everyone always threw at him and turned it into a shield. He didn't have to care what they said. He didn't have to care about anything. So he didn't, and he never told Nacie how he felt, and he always left conversations with a firm handshake instead of the crushing hug he always wanted to give, so he could hold them, know they were there, real, loving him as much as he loved them. But he never did. He just shook their hands again and again until the Calamity hit. He was gonna get to try again. He was gonna break through his stupid masculine pride thing and show them his love, his warmth. He was gonna do  
  
somethin  
  
He woke up like usual on the Rippling Walls. Took a shower, like usual. Got his breakfast and sat down with some of his fellow Masons, like usual. Forgot their names, like usual.  
  
Thought about Nacie, like usual. Went to see her after his shift. She looked beautiful, firing her bow along with the rest of the Breakers. Beautiful like always.  
  
Beautiful like the black-haired boy and the black-haired girl he could remember sometimes on the edge of his mind. Beautiful like an old man's words, flitting across his consciousness like one of Nordy's birds, never quite landing long enough for him to get a grip on it. He was sad sometimes, for reasons he could never quite figure out.  
  
He was going to tell Nacie how he felt. He picked up flowers, trying his best to not dirty them with his too-strong hands, washed as clean of Wall grease as he could get them. He went to her house. Knocked on the door. One of the Tunder boys answered. He was pretty, the Kid noticed. Not strong and beaten up like himself. Just pretty. Soft features. Nacie came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist. Kid couldn't say he felt betrayed, but he sure felt something as he handed the flowers to them and stammered out a "congratulations" as Nacie blushed. You shouldn't have! She smiled at him, taking them anyway. I know, he thought, declining their invitation to come in for lunch. He had other things he had to get to.  
  
Just one more thing to run away from, he supposed, hefting his hammer over his shoulder and walking back to the Walls.

* * *

Zulf loved his wife very much. He loved his wife so much that when he found out she couldn't bear children, he didn't care. Her womb was problematic. It didn't matter. It can be just you and me, he said, stroking her hair. We can adopt, he said, stroking the curve of her back, her thighs, her breasts. But she didn't listen to him. She wanted children so bad. She had always wanted children. The first miscarriage almost destroyed her, and the doctors told her she wouldn't survive another.  
  
She didn't care. She laid Zulf down and rode him every night. Nonstop. Fierce. Wonderful and sweaty and passionate.  
  
Cried every time the pregnancy test came back negative.  
  
One time it came back positive. She was beyond happy, but she knew Zulf wouldn't be. She was afraid of what would happen if she told him. He had taken to drinking, you see, ever since their first child didn't even have a chance to be their child. A drunken Zulf could be anything from a forgetful Zulf to a furious Zulf. She was afraid of the furious Zulf, that he wouldn't let her keep the child. He always thought he knew best for her. He did, usually, but she knew she had to have this baby. This baby was gonna do great things, she wrote in her journal.  
  
A teary Zulf laughed for hours over that little phrase. The only great thing the goddamn baby did was rupture her guts. He growled. Threw the journal across the room.  
  
Internal bleeding. Unstoppable. Unfixable. We warned her, sir.  
  
Nobody could've warned Zulf about how much losing her would hurt.

* * *

Zia got lucky. Home sick the day she would've met the boy. Instead of losing everything she held dear with the Calamity, she lost it to sickness. Her father passed away. Wasting disease. Couldn't even move his arms by the end of it.  
  
She laid her harp guitar on his coffin as he was lowered into his grave and never picked it up again. Put down her sheet music and picked up the Fang Repeater. Enrolled in with the Trappers and when the Ura came for war, she gave it to them. Deadshot Zia, they called her. Never made friends. Cut her hair off with whatever she could find moment it touched her ears. Never missed a target. The targets missed her.  
  
Until they didn't. Right in the hip, first, and next into her shooting arm. She was discharged immediately, medals thrown at her for her dedication, her injury, her contribution to the war effort. She pawned them off to buy the most expensive bottle of Dreadrum she could find. She drank half of it and somehow found her way to the Rippling Walls. She flashed her military ID at whoever dared to look at her once and a deathly glare to whoever dared to look at her twice.  
  
She managed to get to the top of the Wall, looking down at the City. The view was beautiful. She tripped.  
  
"Hense, can you hear me?" she screamed, standing up with far too much effort. Her bones were old now. Couldn't hold her up half the time. "If you can, I just wanted to let you know something: fuck you! To hell with you! And you, Micia! And Lemaign, you most of all! I hope you rot!"  
  
"Rot like your stomach will if you keep drinking that swill," a voice came. Low. Rough. Ancient. Zia hated him immediately.  
  
"Fuck right off, old man. This is quality swill." She took a deep swig to prove her point and looked him right in the eye. A flash of green. A moment of recognition. "Rucks." The name tumbled off her lips and he started.  
  
"How do you know my name?" he growled, tapping his cane.  
  
She laughed mirthlessly and turned away from him, looking back down to Caelondia. The great City. The marvel. She couldn't stand to look at it one moment longer and turned to face away from Rucks, instead. She saw a Mason, walking home and talking quietly with a Mancer. The Mason looked up. His white hair flashed in the afternoon light. His tired eyes met hers. "Hey there, Kid!" She yelled at him. "Do you remember? Can you remember?"  
  
He shook his head confusedly. "Of course not," Zia mumbled. "It's only me. It's only ever me."  
  
She climbed up onto a battlement, tottering precariously. Rucks yelled. She caught maybe half of it. "Young lady, get down from there!"  
  
"Rucks, hush," she said, smiling grimly. "Don't you fucking dare make another Calamity."  
  
He looked beyond shocked. "How do you-"  
  
"Shut the fuck up!" Zia screamed, standing up fully. The wind hit her and she stumbled. "Don't you fucking dare use the Calamity. It'll ruin everything. Every. Single. Thing."  
  
She turned and looked out past the City limits. The sun was beginning to sit. How pretty. She never wanted to see it again. She never wanted to see anything.  
  
Zia leaned forward, feeling the wind in her hair. For a brief moment, she felt a balcony in front of her, keeping her safe. She leaned into it.  
  
She didn't want to be safe.  
  
"ZIA!" came the Kid's scream as she fell. Too late, she thought. Sorry.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I can be found at 2fab4lyffe.tumblr.com.


End file.
